Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic
by fanfic n00b
Summary: It's Teddy Lupin's twenty-sixth birthday. He's going to come round to Harry's for his birthday party, but before that, he needs to scrape himself off Luna's couch and get over a wicked hangover. Also, he really needs to figure out this whole Victoire situation.


_**A/N** This story has a prequel! If you want to read it first, go to my profile and open **An Uninvited Guest**. Both stories are rated T for some sexuality and wizard swears._

* * *

Something smelled bitter and earthy. And felt soft, though a little scratchy in places. None of this was familiar, and it was that out-of-place-ness that cajoled Teddy Lupin out of sleep and into the world of the living, the light of day.

His eyes flicked open. A sofa, he was on a sofa. It was upholstered in the strangest printed fabric, which depicted little figures of medieval witches who seemed to be charming various beasts. The beasts looked far too happy about their plight. The sofa itself smelled as though it had been steeped in camphor and incense. High stacks of books stood sentinel around the sofa, some too tall to see over, and here and there odds and ends balanced on top of the stacks – a giant, deformed conch shell. A bird skull. A lone yellow saucer.

"Good morning, Theodore."

The airy voice had issued from the ceiling.

Teddy looked up to see a fortyish blonde woman sitting upside-down on the ceiling, her legs in half-lotus, sipping a mug of something that defied gravity. Her long hair floated ethereally around her.

"Hello, Luna."

"You looked so peaceful," she said. "Were you having pleasant dreams?"

"I can't recall, to be honest."

"That's a shame. Personally, I keep a dream journal under my pillow to prompt my subconscious to remember its dreams."

"And does that help?" he asked.

"Oh, yes. The subconscious can be trained as easily as most other magical creatures, I find."

She gazed down at him, her eyes large and observant. He suddenly realized that he had very little clothing on. It was odd to be gazed at, semi-nude, by a woman who'd had a hand in raising you, but who you also found somewhat attractive. She was not really that much older than he was. Then again, that very thought made him feel desperately immature.

"Er, Luna. Do you know what happened to my clothes?"

"You left them in the library last night. It does get rather warm in here this time of year. That insulation charm is a little too effective, I think. Though it keeps the menagerie happy."

At that moment, a pair of nifflers leapt across a tottering pile of books and onto Teddy's bare chest. They sniffed at his face and their whiskers tickled him.

"You haven't got any earrings on? Only they will keep digging for them no matter how many cushions you put in their way," she said.

"Mmm, no, I haven't," he said, giggling slightly as the furry, ferret-y little things kept tickling him.

"That's good. I would hate for you to have to regrow an ear on your birthday. Best to hold onto last year's ears, if you can."

"I agree," he said, stifling a chuckle as the nifflers lost interest in him and scampered away. "Did I fall asleep here?"

"Yes. Well-deduced. You drank rather a lot of that potent Tibetan rice wine, and became very inebriated, and removed most of your clothing, and then you went on about Victoire Weasley for quite some time, revealing many intimate details, and you seemed so vulnerable and passionate that I did not wish to stop you. You do think highly of her, you know. And rather less so of yourself, which is a shame, because I like you very much. Your father had a similar difficulty, which always made me quite sad. You are both more than deserving of romantic love, and are very nice people in general."

Teddy blinked at her and made a small choking sound. It wasn't just the way she spoke of the dead in the present tense. It was the compliment, too. All of it, really. He started to say "thanks," but the word was blocked by a lump in his throat.

"Would you care for some jasmine tea?" she asked.

"Yes," he managed.

His memory of the evening was returning to him piecemeal. Luna had finished an expedition to Tibet and asked him to photograph some artifacts she had brought home. A celebratory toast had turned into a friendly second round of drinks and then devolved into a drunken confession of his own misgivings and troubles about his long-suffering girlfriend. Luna had obliged him, encouraged him, let him say all of the things he usually kept tamped down like packed earth in his heart. He appreciated – had always appreciated – the way she let him say all of what he thought without interruption or contradiction. She was so open-minded and curious. Her affect was not wholly motherly, either – more like an aunt, or an elder sister, or (if he was perfectly honest with himself) an attractive older woman he had entertained guilty, private thoughts about as a teenager.

Well, at least he was sure of one thing: he had a type. Intellectual blondes. Luna and Victoire both.

"I apologize, Theodore, but I have charmed all the mugs to function upside down."

"Shall I join you up there?"

"Mmm. Yes, that would be the most expedient way to drink your tea. Though a nice _Uttanasana_ could work as well."

"I'm a bit out of practice with my yoga."

"Hmm. I wonder how you manage to do so many interesting things with Victoire Weasley, then."

He blushed scarlet as he cast the levitation charm on himself and turned slowly through the air. Luna was unfailingly direct. It was she who had given him the facts-of-life speech when he was a boy, though it was less of a speech and more of a weird seminar. (To this day he could not look at a naked woman without hearing Luna's voice say "And what do you think about that, Theodore?") He folded his legs and settled himself next to her on the ceiling as she _Summoned_ a mug of tea from the other room.

"Do you care for yak butter in yours?" she asked.

"No thanks."

He cupped the mug in his hands and inhaled. He wondered if the potent jasmine smell inundating his sinuses would assuage what was beginning to feel like a nasty hangover.

"I thought not. It is an acquired taste. Even amongst Tibetan wizards, it is not always taken at breakfast."

She patted his shoulder gently.

"I am very pleased to be spending the morning of your birthday with you, Theodore."

"Likewise," he said, and drank his tea.

* * *

Teddy had never found Apparition terribly pleasant, but Apparition with a hangover was doubly unpleasant. So instead, he took the tube back to his flat from Luna's. He found a seat among the morning commuters, enjoying the womb-like vibration of the car, and stuffed his ears with the white buds of his wizard-hacked iPod. (Credit was due to George and Arthur Weasley for enchanting the thing for him. Arthur had kept calling it an iPlod.)

He munched on the hangover cure Luna had given him on his way out the door – a bag of puffed mandrake seeds. It seemed to be working, albeit slowly. This was one of the oddly pleasant things about being mothered by six different women – you picked up so many tricks, were nurtured in so many different ways.

When Teddy was growing up, Luna had always given him the room (and often the tools) to experiment. Hermione was much more mindful of rules, though she did know exactly when to let him break them. Andromeda was a little more stern and old-fashioned, but she was the closest living relative he had, and she was very warm when she wanted to be. Ginny and Molly, of course, were bastions of creature comforts.

And Fleur – well, she had allowed him to fall in love with her first-born daughter. And she had so far been gracious enough not to chastise him for his waffling about Victoire, for dating her on-again, off-again for eight years. He felt immensely guilty about this, however. A nice long harangue, preferably in French, and maybe coupled with some scary Veela magic, would be just the thing to force a decision out of him.

At the stop in Notting Hill Gate, a teenage couple boarded the train. The girl had wild, red hair and was wearing one of those eccentrically mismatched outfits London girls were famous for – a mustard-yellow skirt, pink paisley top, and olive green hacking jacket. The boy had dark hair swept back in a ponytail, and he was wearing a long black coat which would have passed in Diagon Alley but was probably just goth. Teddy watched them as they fumbled for the same overhead rail, her thumb and his little finger overlapping. Their expressions were full of longing, anguish, and fresh lust. Perhaps they had just slept together for the first time. Something about them stirred a curious feeling in him, though he could not say what. It felt like something from a past life.

He disembarked at Bethnal Green and made his way up to his flat, still popping crunchy mandrake seeds in his mouth every few steps. The clouds were opening and a patch of bare, bright sky emerged, looking down on him like a great blue eye.

* * *

Victoire was sleeping in his bed. Her slim arms were crossed around his pillow, as if she had hugged it to herself all night. Her long white-blonde hair fanned out behind her. Her hair had always reminded him of a unicorn's, so impossibly pale and feminine and pure. She was wearing his Puddlemere United t-shirt.

She was much, much too good for him, he thought. Too pretty and too clever and leagues more professionally successful. She appraised magical antiques for a living, and she was very sought-after, whereas he worked as a photographer and occasionally played drums in a Wyrd Sisters cover band. She also travelled constantly, which made things even more complicated, but she did stay with Teddy when she was in England.

She did not wake as he sat down on the bed, but she did stir a little. Jet lag. Or, more correctly, broom lag. He watched her slow, even breathing and the fluttering of her silvery eyelashes. She must be dreaming. Maybe he should stuff a dream journal under her pillow so he could ask her about them later, he thought.

By this time, he had finished the mandrake seeds and was feeling much better. This was fortunate, because he had booked a job for this afternoon.

He left the bedroom and puttered around the flat, making toast and arranging the stack of photos that he was planning to bring to Harry's tonight. The little people in them looked up, and some of them waved. He smiled down at them. He felt, now that he was twenty-six, that he was a bit old for birthday presents. Instead, he wanted to _give_ a gift to the people who were coming to his party.

He changed out of yesterday's jeans and found a clean-ish shirt that he set right with a _Tergio _spell. He spread some jam on his toast, left a note for Victoire to read when she woke up, and fired off a few return owls that had come in last night.

Luna's comment about his father drifted back to him. Was this fear of commitment really hereditary?

Poor Dad, though. He'd had to bear the stigma of lycanthropy. That was a much better justification for jilting girls than his own. And what was his own excuse, again?

But really, _really_, Victoire was too far out of his league. Why she had put up with him thus far, he could not fathom. She seemed determined to keep him in her life, to grant him mercy, no matter what idiotic things he did, no matter how penniless and unimpressive he was.

A small voice inside him said,_ Isn't that the general idea, Ted?_

This was new.

He did a spot check in the mirror before setting off again. He wasn't sure he liked his hair this way. And – Merlin, was that a grey hair? He had not done that on purpose. He squinted, focused on a particular shade, and felt his hair change from blond to brown. Satisfied, he threw his camera bag over one shoulder and shut the door.

* * *

Everyone cries at weddings. Teddy had photographed enough of them to know this. He didn't usually witness it on this order of magnitude, however.

Teddy had also photographed enough weddings to know how to move through a crowd, catching the best angles, the important details. In a way, being able to change his appearance at will was a boon to his career, because he could look either like the most unassuming or the most noticeable person in the room, as the situation required.

The bride and groom were in their early thirties. She had dark hair and used a wheelchair, and she was breathtaking. Brides always looked pretty at their own weddings, of course, but this woman had what Teddy could only describe as an aura – although it seemed to fill the whole room. (He was sure Luna would know a more accurate word for this phenomenon.) The bride and her groom were both half-weeping, half-laughing. The officiant was mopping his eyes. And – it was either that aura or something in the champagne – because before long, all the guests were crying, and Teddy hid his face behind his camera.

His heart stung with empathy, and coupled with that he wanted to laugh a little at these poor, sweet, blubbering people. But he also felt something more biting. After a while, he thought it might be jealousy.

Then it hit him in a blinding, staggering flash, and a series of remembered moments – the thing Luna had said this morning. This poor groom sobbing through his vows. Victoire's fluttering, dreaming eyelashes.

It was always Victoire.

Even when he was nine. Her family had just moved back from France and he'd met her on that grassy hill outside the Burrow. When he first saw her silver-white hair, so exotic to his eyes then, his own hair had involuntarily transformed to match hers. And she had looked at him, unafraid, as if this was the most normal thing in the world.

It was always Victoire.

Even when he was half-heartedly dating Indira Patil last year. One night, Victoire had turned up at his band's show, swaying silently to the music, his music, not asking for anything, not making a scene, just making a genuine attempt to be his friend.

Poor Indira. He really hadn't done right by her, either.

_I am such a shit,_ he thought.

_But she wants you anyway,_ said the little voice.

Later, he would rationalize that it could not have come to him all at once in perfect clarity like that. Surely he had been thinking about it for a long time already. But in the moment, it felt like an epiphany, a divine kick to the head.

The setting sun refracted through pink and gold clouds as the couple was declared "bonded for life" and their guests conjured a legion of handkerchiefs for their noses.

* * *

Harry's house was full of noise and light. As Teddy rounded the gate at eight o'clock, he could hear James and George out back hooting and firing spells at something that kept exploding. Ginny popped her head out of the kitchen window and called brightly to him, brandishing a knife covered in frosting.

News of his arrival had reached the whole house in about six seconds. Hermione opened the door and pulled him into a long hug.

"How are you?" she asked.

"I'm great," he said, pulling back a few inches and beaming at her.

She searched his face, measuring his words against his expression. She decided, it seemed, that he was being truthful.

"Then I'm glad," she said. "It's lovely to see you."

He crossed the threshold and found Rose, Hugo, and Al playing wizard Scrabble on the sitting room floor. They grinned at him through the grid of tiles suspended magically in the air.

"Crepuscular!" shouted Rose. "Forty points to me."

"What does that even mean?" asked Hugo.

"Of or relating to twilight," said Al, pushing his wire-framed glasses up his nose. "Your turn, Hugh."

A high shriek from the stairwell turned all of their heads. Teddy's vision was momentarily obscured by something red and fervent that wrapped around his head.

"Teddy!" Lily squealed, hugging him so tightly it hurt.

"Hello, Lily," he chuckled, scraping her off his chest and setting her down on the carpet. She was so short that the top of her head did not clear his shoulder.

She made eye contact with him, and he noticed her pulse beating rapidly in her neck, though the corners of her mouth were turned up. "I brought Francoise to stay," she said meaningfully.

"Ah," he said softly, understanding. "The famous Francoise."

"She's upstairs. She's owling her mum to see if she can spend the rest of the Easter holidays with me. Us. The family."

She fidgeted nervously with the hem of her t-shirt.

Though Teddy would never admit it, Lily was possibly his favorite of Harry's children. Her mouthy insubordination contrasted nicely with his own reasonable mellowness. She was also small enough to swing around like a pinata – a screaming, red-haired pinata filled with swears and hexes.

Additionally, Lily shared with Teddy a talent for twisting herself into knots about her love life. Her own situation was somewhat different from his; she had only recently acquired her first girlfriend and had been waffling about letting the family know. Teddy rather thought, however, that most of them already knew and would not be scandalized in the slightest.

"That sounds like a holiday well-spent," he said.

He leaned close so that only she could hear.

"Did you decide?" he whispered.

She nodded and pulled him into the study, further away from her family's ears.

"And?" he asked.

"Don't want to overshadow your birthday toast. But after that I'm going to do it. If that's okay."

"Yes, it's completely okay," he said.

"I haven't got a speech prepared or anything."

"You don't need one. You'll do great."

She relaxed a little. "What's in the bag?" she asked.

"Mmm, later. It's a surprise."

"You brought a surprise to your own birthday party? Merlin, are we that unreliable?"

"No," he chuckled. "You Potter lot are wonderfully consistent."

"Consistently batshit, you mean."

"If by batshit you mean endearingly chaotic, then yes. But later, I promise I'll show you."

"And what about Vic? Is she coming tonight?"

"She's coming." He stifled a smile, but she had seen.

"What's happened? Have you gotten her pregnant?"

"No," he said, now smiling despite himself.

"What then? You're grinning like an idiot, Teddy Lupin. Don't think you can keep a secret from me. And don't try to morph that smug look off your face, either."

"Caught red-handed. I surrender." He offered his wrists out for her imaginary manacles.

"_Tell_ me," she said.

"Put it this way. You've decided something. So have I."

"Oh!" she said, clapping her hands over her mouth. "Oh, Teddy." And she was hugging him again. "Oh, you great tart. You big, beautiful idiot. Who else knows?"

"Only you, at the moment."

She squealed again.

"When is it happening? Can I be a bridesmaid?"

"I haven't nailed down the logistics to that level of detail, seeing as I haven't even asked her yet. And I really don't know about you being a bridesmaid, Lily, because you'd have to wear a dress for once."

She punched his arm playfully. "Git," she said.

"Teddy, come and have a drink," said Ron, appearing at the door of the study. "Neville's just arrived, and he brought more of that exploding punch."

"Can I have punch?" asked Lily impetuously.

"_You_ can have a butterbeer," Ron said. "This stuff rots your insides. I think he ferments it himself from venomous tentacula leaves. The nutter."

Teddy followed Ron into the kitchen, where the adults were already partaking of the aforementioned punch. Harry swore loudly as flames shot out of his ears. Ginny plied him with cold frosting.

Hermione, Neville, and Hannah seemed to have a dare going about who could drink the most punch in one go. They had set engorgement charms on their small glass tumblers, which were growing larger and larger every second, smoking and spitting sparks dangerously. Teddy knew this about his adopted family: it was the nice ones you had to watch out for.

George and James came in through the back door and clapped Teddy affectionately on the back.

"Happy birthday, Ted."

"Now you're closer to thirty than twenty, Ted."

"Thanks for that, James."

Teddy took a swig of punch. Ron had not been kidding when he said it rotted your insides. The flames tickled the inside of his nose – enchanted flames, not so harmful, mostly just for show – but the taste of the stuff was so searingly, inhumanely spicy that Teddy's eyes streamed with tears. It was as if Voldemort had risen from the dead to mix him an evil bloody mary.

Neville had evidently taken the lead in the dare, because his whole face was aflame and he was letting loose a string of curse words so long and so inventive that Teddy wondered where he had learned them all. He had definitely never, ever heard Neville say anything like that before.

Lily reappeared in the hall leading off the kitchen, hand-in-hand with a tall, doe-eyed girl with close-cropped hair who could only be Francoise. The new girl seemed shy or introverted or perhaps just terrified of her girlfriend's boisterous extended family.

With a swift clatter of footfalls, Al, Rose, and Hugo ran into the hall behind them.

"We heard screaming," said Al, his wand out, his expression tense, looking for all the world like a teenage Harry Potter.

"Not to worry, dear," said Ginny. "Professor Longbottom was just sharing some interesting things he learned at school."

Then Lily and Francoise burst out laughing, and everyone else did, too.

This seemed like the right moment, thought Teddy, catching his breath and clearing his throat.

"Now that you're all assembled," he began, "Potters, Weasleys, and company, I have brought some artifacts to share with you. You'll recall that I have been re-organizing the photo archive at the Daily Prophet for a few weeks."

He pulled out his stack of carefully chosen photos and took off the rubber band that bound it together.

"In my work," he continued, "I have uncovered some things that may be of particular interest to you."

The family gathered around him, still joking with one another about the very bad behavior of the adults in the house.

"I found this," Teddy said, setting the photo on the table, "in a box of Hogwarts memorabilia."

The photo depicted four boys standing in the middle of the Quidditch pitch, holding the sorting hat, looking devious- James, Remus, Sirius, and Peter, all clearly in the middle of a schoolboy prank. Suddenly a short, round-faced girl rocketed into view, knocked all four of them to their feet, grabbed the sorting hat, and in one smooth motion pulled the sword of Gryffindor from it. The boys goggled at her, but then something huge and scaly came into frame behind them, and the girl sprang to her feet, brandishing the sword.

"Is that-" started Harry.

"That's Alice Longbottom," said Hermione.

"It is," said Teddy. "Apparently a hydra got loose on the grounds during the Triwizard that year. She held it off for a quarter of an hour before the Ministry got there."

"Blimey, look at her go," laughed Ron. "Harry, your Dad looks like he's about to faint from the shock."

"Well, it's not that surprising. She did become an Auror," reasoned Hermione.

"She looks a right little Gryffindor," said Ginny.

"She was," said Neville quietly.

They all looked at him. The room was silent except for the continued sputtering of the smoking punch bowl.

Teddy bit his lip worriedly. He wondered if this was such a good idea after all, bringing all these photos of times past and loved ones lost.

"I never knew that," Neville said finally, meeting Teddy's eyes.

And Teddy knew that it was alright. He and Neville had always had a certain mutual understanding, both having been raised by their grandmothers.

"What's next?" asked Lily, clapping her hands.

"Thank you. Yes. Next up. This was willed to the archive by the Creevy estate."

The photo showed three very familiar wizards wearing striped Gryffindor scarves that were almost too big for them. Harry, Ron, and Hermione. They looked about twelve.

"Oh my god," said Hermione. "We're so young."

"This is weird," said Harry.

"Hey little us, useful tip, there's a basilisk in the basement!" called Ron.

Harry, Ron, Ginny, and Hermione laughed, but their children looked puzzled.

"Long story," said Harry. "I'll explain later."

"Can I keep this?" asked Ron. "I want to remember how innocent my wife looked. Before she went barmy and punched Malfoy in the face. She's never been the same since."

It looked as though Ron had just earned a punch of his own, when a clear voice called from the hall.

"Good evening, Potters."

Victoire had evidently let herself in. She looked tall and classically beautiful in a white dress, like some Peloponnesian goddess walking among mortals.

"Something must be terribly exciting in here," she said. "I could hear you two blocks away."

Hugo, Lily, and Rose descended on her.

"Victoire!"

"When did you get back?"

"How was Cairo?"

Teddy met her eyes above her cousins' heads. The moment was almost here. He could feel it. If Lily's insane grin didn't give him away first.

"I brought a lemon trifle," said Victoire, extracting herself gracefully from a four-way hug.

"I'll take care of that for you," said James, taking the bowl of quivering cream from her with a devious smile. "This looks perfect for-"

"Don't you dare," admonished Ginny.

"What? I wasn't doing anything. Honestly, mum," he said. "It's your constant suspicion that truly hampers my emotional development."

Sniggering, Teddy took Victoire by the hand and led her toward the back door.

"Excuse me a moment," he said to the room at large.

He took note of each of his party guests as he walked. Neville and Hannah were flipping through the remaining photographs, his head leaning on her shoulder, their expressions beatific. The kids were eyeing the birthday cake. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were sitting hip-to-hip on the kitchen work surface, wearing far-away looks that Teddy had seen only once or twice before.

He squeezed Victoire's hand.

Lily shot him a Cheshire cat grin as she shut the door behind him.

In the courtyard, stars and daffodils were out in full force. Yes, this would do.

"Happy birthday, Teddy," said Victoire.

"Thank you," he replied, suddenly trembling with nervous excitement.

To anchor himself, he looked at Harry's house, which was full of light, laughter, and love.

"Vic," he said, turning to look at her and folding one of her hands between both of his. "I've been... well, a bit of a shit, really."

The moonlight picked out the silver in her hair. A small line appeared between her brows. With a plummeting feeling in his stomach, he realized she must be expecting him to break up with her again. He probably made this same earnest face every time.

"Don't worry. It's not what you think," he said. "I've just been thinking. I woke up at Luna's this morning with hardly any clothes on and she told me I was up half the night drinking and worrying about it. And then, today, I was at this wedding, and..."

Her face contorted into that detached expression she wore when she knew he was about to disappoint her. He decided he would need to do it properly. He took a knee and briefly pressed his forehead against the back of her hand, like a kiss.

She raised her eyebrows. Her absurdly pretty eyebrows.

"Vic. I've been in remiss for a very long time. Years. Forgive me."

And now he could tell she had caught on to what he was about to do. Her lower lip trembled, and he felt his own mouth go wobbly in sympathy.

His senses heightened with the gravity of the moment, he suddenly realized that the noisy Potter house had gone silent. He glanced toward it and saw thirteen expectant faces peering out from every open window, craning to get a good view of him.

"It appears we have an audience," said Victoire.

"Oy, give these ardent young lovebirds some privacy," called George, not backing away from his window at all.

"Yeah, nobody wants a peanut gallery for this," concurred James with mock indignation.

"It's fine," called Teddy, waving a hand at them all. "If all goes well, I'll be joining your family permanently. I doubt you'll give me much privacy then, either."

Thirteen voices called back.

"Nope, we won't."

"Definitely not."

"Not on your life."

"So go on then."

"Took you long enough!"

"Yeah, get a move on, Ted. I want a piece of birthday cake before midnight."

Victoire arched an eyebrow at him. "You're sure you want to be a part of all this? Forever?" she asked, jerking her head in the direction of her chattering, catcalling family.

He nodded.

"Absolutely," he said.


End file.
